


Because of Steve

by usakiwigirl



Series: No Excuses [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Internal Monologue, M/M, POV First Person, Possibly Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usakiwigirl/pseuds/usakiwigirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I used to have a normal life - work, marriage, daughter. Then my marriage imploded and my ex moved to the other side of the country. So I followed, because hello, daughter.</p><p>Work, on the other hand - well, that's a whole different issue. And it's all because of Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because of Steve

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in weeks, maybe months. I blame apathy and medication.
> 
> BUT, because I haven't written anything in so long, I have no idea if this is any good, so please excuse if it sucks. It's just me trying to get my head in the game once more.
> 
> Not beta'd, obviously. Not owned by me either. No disrespect intended.

He is the most aggravating, infuriating, bone-headed, reckless individual I have ever had the misfortune to work with – and I think I am in love with him. Why is this a problem, you ask? He has no regard for safety – his own or that of those around him, namely mine. I like my skin, I’m rather partial to my skin, I need my damn skin to survive. But no, this fucking Neanderthal of a goddamn SEAL keeps throwing himself into harm’s way, and expecting me to casually pull his chestnuts out of the resulting blazing inferno.

Okay, so maybe I should introduce myself; my name is Danny. Detective Daniel Williams, if you want to be formal, Danno to my daughter Grace – my reason for existing – but mostly just Danny to everyone else. Formerly of the Newark Police Department in New Jersey, but now working for Honolulu Police Department in Hawai’i, a part of the Governor of Hawai’i’s special task force, Hawai’i Five-0. Am I a long way from home? Yes, yes I am. That’s a long story, though, and best saved for another time. Let’s just say it’s to do with Grace, and leave it at that, shall we? How I went from HPD to the Governor’s task force, well, that’s a whole ‘nother issue.

It’s all to do with that freak of nature, see. Oh, right, I haven’t told you his name yet, have I. Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett, US Navy Reserves, SEAL, head of Five-0, my partner and resident, perpetual pain in my ass. Don’t get me wrong, he’s good. He’s really good, actually; the solve rate for violent and high-profile crimes has increased dramatically since the formation of Five-0 and McGarrett is definitely a factor in that. Yeah, yeah, I know I’ve had a hand in that, too, as well as the rest of our team, Chin Ho Kelly and Kono Kalakaua, but strong leadership goes a long way to success. I’m just sayin’. He can be rational, sane – he even thinks things through on occasion, plans an op with military precision (stands to reason, right, with his background). But sometimes…

It’s just, how do I say this? He’s… okay, impulse control? He has none. Emotional depth? Please, I’ve seen a corpse show more emotional range than this man. No, okay, that’s not fair. McGarrett isn’t a robot, but he’s also about as emotionally mature as a two-year old throwing a tantrum. Argh, that’s not fair either. You see what he does to me? I’m an articulate, intelligent man, but he reduces me to, to… I don’t know what. I’m not used to that. I can always explain myself, I am never lost for words – ask anybody, they’ll all tell you, I’m sure. No, McGarrett’s problem is that he is emotionally stunted. (With a childhood like his it’s no surprise, and that’s another story best left to a different time. Or a shrink’s couch. Probably the latter. Yeah, that’s better.) He also can’t follow police procedure, and that’s what’s flipping me out right now. Well, that and the loving him thing.

See, the issue here is his propensity to do stupid-ass things like dangle suspects off cliffs and buildings, or drop them into shark cages. Okay, that last one was kind of funny. But not at the time, and I’m never going to admit that to McGarrett, not to his face, because the last thing he needs is encouragement. Oh, but the look on Joey’s face was definitely one I’ll cherish, if for no other reason than I do enjoy seeing the wannabe-Mob schmuck’s from Jersey looking like they just met their worst nightmare. The Soprano’s might have been a rating’s darling for Hollywood, but it did nothing for us on the ground in Jersey. Fucking assholes thought they always had the upper hand, smirking and laughing at us. I gotta say, it felt nice to turn a little of that back on one of them. But I’m still not gonna tell McGarrett that, because the point here is that he has no control, and while it’s occasionally a good thing – like Joey – it’s mostly bad. Really bad.

Like now. See, right now, he’s got our current suspect tied to a chair while the building we found him in is burning around us. Yes, you heard me – the building is on fire. As in, about to collapse. On us. The smoke is thick enough to choke a fucking elephant, and McGarrett is casually leaning against the wall and just waiting it out. I’m telling you, the fucker tied to the chair isn’t all that keen to give up his co-conspirators – I get that, perps hate turning snitch, it makes for a miserable stay in the slammer, although I don’t exactly have a ton of sympathy for any of them – but right now, all he wants is his mommy. He’s shit scared of the fire, and even more scared of McGarrett, and I don’t blame him one bit. He should be. The man is certifiable. This bozo (the perp, not McGarrett, although he’s a close second) will talk – they always talk when McGarrett is involved – but he’s not going to do it if he’s a crispy critter. It’s fucking hard to talk when your lungs have been barbecued and your vocal chords are charcoal.

I’m a short second away from knocking sense into McGarrett myself – with my fist, or a handy two-by-four – when he finally decides enough is enough, and just picks up our wannabe gang boss, chair and all, and saunters out of the building. Burning shit is falling all around us, and he acts like it’s just a walk in the fucking park. Just another day at the office. You see why I’m turning gray here? I’m still a young man, only 37, but if I’m lucky enough to make it to 40 (it’s debateable with McGarrett as a partner), I’ll be lucky if any of my natural colour remains. Hell, I’ll be lucky if I have hair at all – and male pattern baldness does not, I repeat, DOES NOT, run in my family. On either side. If I lose my hair, I am laying the blame squarely on McGarrett’s idiotically muscled and tattooed shoulders. I swear I have less on top than I did three years ago when I first started working with this nightmare.

But enough about my hair, work of art though it is; the point here is that McGarrett is going to do something so monumentally stupid one of these days that we’re going to lose a suspect before McGarrett even has the chance to say “Book ‘em, Danno,” to me. Oh yeah, that’s another thing – the bastard has also usurped my daughter’s name for me and taken it as his own. Yes, I used the word “usurped”. Look it up, it’s sure as shit the right one for this occasion. And it doesn’t matter how many times I tell him not to say it, he just smirks that smirky smile of his and keeps on doing it. Bastard. A term of endearment, he says. My ass. He only says it because he knows it annoys the living shit out of me. Double bastard.

You know what the absolute worst thing about working with McGarrett is, though? It’s not him calling me Danno – although that’s bad enough. It’s not the random bits and pieces of explosives I constantly find in odd spots about my car (seriously, who leaves grenades in the glove box, who does that, I ask you?). No, it’s not even the fact that my own grasp of proper police procedure has slipped a notch or two thanks to my prolonged exposure to this idiot – let’s not talk about the time I tied that drug-dealing artist to the hood of my car and drove him around Honolulu, shall we. Or the time I handed over my badge and gun to McGarrett so I could beat the ever-loving shit (not to mention some vital information) out of a lowlife piece of scum who’d murdered one young woman, and kidnapped another little girl, all to collect welfare checks.

No, the worst thing about working with McGarrett – Steve – is that I like the guy. Not just love him, because you can do that and still not want to be around that person (yes, I’m talking from personal experience). I genuinely like him. He’s the best damn friend I think I’ve ever had. He has my back, just as I have his. Why is this the worst thing, you ask? Well, that’s kinda complicated (you know, the whole love thing again). See, best friends shouldn’t want to beat the shit out of each other on a daily basis, nor should they want to push their friends up against the nearest hard surface and hump like psychotic bunnies. It’s a fine line between anger and lust, and Steve makes me tip-toe that line so damn often, my toes have cramp. I feel like I can’t hold on any longer. Something is going to snap, and either way, I’m scared it will ruin our friendship and partnership forever and I really don’t want that to happen. Next to Gracie, he is the best thing that has ever happened to me. It’s because of him that I am still (relatively) sane, living in this pineapple hell. And it’s also because of him that I can see my daughter as often as I can, without the headaches and stress I was under when we first met.

The really weird part about it all, is that I’m not even into men. Never have been, didn’t ever expect to be. Why him? No clue. Like I said, he’s annoying, aggravating, bone-headed, infuriating, reckless… He’s also a damn fine specimen of a man, and I don’t have to be into guys to see that. I’m not blind. He’s built like a fucking god; all muscle, long, tanned, tattoos in interesting places. He has women – and a fair few men – falling over themselves all over this damn state to get his attention, but being the emotional equivalent of a dried apricot, he barely notices. I wouldn’t mind some of that female attention being turned toward me, but hey, I get it, no-one is going to notice the short, mouthy little shit when the tall, goofy Adonis is standing in front of them, even if he is completely clueless.

And you know, Steve has his own piece of ass to ride when the urge strikes. Lieutenant Catherine Rollins, USN, formerly stationed on the aircraft carrier Enterprise, but now working out of Pearl, is a very nice, accommodating young woman to have on call. That’s not a nice or polite way to phrase it, you say? No, probably not, but it’s pretty close to the truth. Just ask Steve, he’ll tell you – she’s not his girlfriend. It’s very obvious though, that’s she’s a great lay, judging from the smug smile and loose walk he has after one of their “dates”. And somehow, she’s always ready with a handy bit of Intel when we need it most, even though it could mean her career, which then leads to said dates, and Steve’s insufferably loose limbs and sparkly smirk. I’d say he was just using her, but I can’t get a decent read on Cath to be sure. There’s a better than good chance that she’s actually okay with all of this, which seriously? That’s just weird. My experience with women is that they always have something more in mind. And if she does – have more in mind than Steve, that is – then his world is gonna crash hard about his ears, and we’re all gonna suffer the fallout.

Really though, why am I stressing about all this? Well… if he’s not on his game, then I die, right? Yeah, so it’s selfish. Sue me, I have a daughter, okay? She needs her Danno. Truth be told, Steve needs me, too. Not like you’re thinking – pervert, although a part of me wishes otherwise – but as a partner, as a voice of reason, as the good angel on his shoulder versus the pitchfork-and-flame wielding little bastard whispering in his ear. He needs me to talk him out of doing the sort of stupid shit the SEALS brainwashed him into thinking he could do blindfolded and hog-tied. He needs me to remind him to wait for backup – and to reiterate that I am NOT the backup he is waiting for. He needs me to remind him that grenades are not an acceptable method of opening locked doors, and should never – under any circumstances – be kept in the glove box of a car that a small child frequently uses. He needs me to rescue his ass from extremely hostile forces in countries that have closed borders and are not friendly to Americans.

He also needs me to rescue him from himself. I can see this now, as he stands and watches the building we were just in collapse. There’s soot on his face and his clothing, and ash in his ridiculously short hair. He’s grinning at me like a loon; it’s obvious he thinks he’s done a good thing today, when in reality he could have killed us all. I want to shoot him in the face; I know the blubbering mess at his feet would love to shoot him (once he’s changed his shorts) and more than likely Kono and Chin would have a go at him, as well. Although that’s just a guess – Kono is a scary female replica of Steve, and really, the world should be very worried that she is such an apt pupil. It is just not right how much of his insanity she embraces on a daily basis. The only one who can keep a tight rein on her is Chin, who is, incidentally, a distant cousin. Like most people on this island, it seems. But I digress.

The thing is, I am just going to have to push my feelings of want and lust – and love – deep, so deep that they will never surface again. Steve needs me as his friend, and I guess, if I’m honest, I need him. I can do this; I’ve been doing it now for three years, so the rest of my life should be no problem, right? Especially if it’s as short as it looks to be with him as a partner. Okay, that was bad taste, but still probably close to the truth, sadly.

Steve and I, we’re a good team. I temper his madness, he lets me cut a little loose. And together, we make Hawai’i a safer place for everyone.

Yeah, I can live with that.

I don’t really have any other choice.


End file.
